


Hard Travelin' Civilians

by dotfic



Category: DCU Animated, Justice League Unlimited
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-14
Updated: 2006-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-11 11:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotfic/pseuds/dotfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rules: no powers, no cell phones, no ipods, no costumes. Seven heroes go on a road trip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard Travelin' Civilians

**Author's Note:**

> Justice League is the property of DC Comics/Warner Brothers animation. Written for TigerLime in the DCAU Valentine's Day Ficathon at [JLA Unlimited](http://www.jlaunlimited.com/eFiction1.1/index.php).
> 
> Continuity: set just after "Wake the Dead."
> 
> Thank you, as always, to mtgat for being the best beta-reader on the planet.

2:17 pm  
_Wally_

The tiny lizard flicked its tongue in and out, then turned and scuttled away across the sun-warmed rock.

Wally lay on his back, arms folded behind his head, watching the lizard. He squinted in the hot glare of the sun, wishing he'd remembered to bring a pair of sunglasses. Extracting one hand from behind his head, he shaded his eyes and peered at the two silhouettes standing in front of the van. The silhouettes resolved into Bruce and Clark, both looking very ordinary and oddly alike in khaki chinos and white shirts with the sleeves rolled up.

"Is it fixed yet?" Wally called.

In unison, the two men answered without looking up from the engine. "No."

"Can I help?"

"No."

"Then can I have a glass of water?" Wally said, making his voice sing-song-whiny on purpose, because that was funnier.

Bruce acted like he hadn't heard, reaching his already oil-stained fingers into the bowels of the engine. The sun glinted off Clark's glasses as he shot Wally a warning glance.

"You know, we don't _have_ to be stuck here." On the van's white roof, Shayera sat cross-legged, staring out across the desert.

From this angle, with the sun behind her, Wally could see her wings as a transparent outline, as if they were made of clear lucite. It was something Zatanna and Dr. Fate had come up with together just before the founding seven left for their trip. Shayera's unmasked face had been in the media a lot lately, identifiable as Hawkgirl. She'd braided her hair back into a tight coil around her head and wore sunglasses and civilian clothes. But her wings would be impossible to hide by any normal means. So a temporary magic spell rendered Shayera's wings invisible for seven days.

As Bruce put it, "Someone sees a woman with wings with all of us and they'll put two and two together."

"Some people _could_ be at the nearest gas station and back in under three seconds," Shayera went on pointedly.

"We promised. No powers." Wally scratched his nose, worrying he might burn.

"We promised 'no powers unless it's an emergency.'" Shayera looked at Bruce and Clark working on the engine. "I think this qualifies."

"Actually, what we swore to was not to use our powers for seven days 'unless lives were in danger.'" J'onn slid the van door shut and tossed Wally a bottle of water.

Without leaving his comfortable spot in the sun, Wally held up his arm and caught it.

Actually, it was _John_ at the moment not _J'onn_, but despite the Martian's human form, Wally couldn't think of him as that. It was too confusing because of GL. He'd always just be _J'onn_, with a soft "J," no matter what he looked like.

"Our lives are in danger." Shayera rubbed the back of her neck. "We're in danger of dying of boredom. Tell me again why we don't have cell phones? And whose idea was that?"

"Wally's," Clark said, his voice muffled under the hood of the van.

"Was not!" Wally objected.

"No cell phones, no iPods, no portable music players or TV's. We're not even allowed to play the van's radio." Shayera glared down at Wally.

"It wasn't my idea, it was was J'onn's."

"That is true," J'onn agreed, looking uncomfortable. They all knew that J'onn carried a League communicator, but it was only in case of an omega-level alert.

"Okay, but if Wally hadn't come up with the idea of us taking this trip without using our powers, you wouldn't have thought up that other rule about the cell phones, and we could call for a tow and be out of here." Shayera snapped her fingers.

 

* * *

4:17 pm  
_Bruce_

"We've been several miles in each direction. There's nothing out here but tumbleweeds and an abandoned barn." John wiped the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his t-shirt, then took several deep gulps from his water bottle.

Not at all sweaty despite the fact that she'd gone scouting with John, Diana stood with her arms folded.

Bruce wiped his greasy hands with a rag, trying to pretend he didn't notice her watching him. He also pretended not to notice her loose, flowing skirt, leather sandals that emphasized the shape of her calves, and v-neck t-shirt that emphasized her other shapes.

"I can't believe we haven't seen a car go by all day." Clark rubbed the bridge of his nose where the cross-piece of his glasses was chafing. For Clark, he looked unusually bedraggled.

"We have plenty of food and water." Bruce tossed the soiled rag into the van through an open window. "What's the condition of the barn?"

"Not viable," John said. "Listing sideways and about to collapse. I swear it hasn't been used for forty years."

"Then we sleep outside. It gets cold in the desert at night. We'll need to build a fire." Bruce moved briskly, opening the back hatch, pulling out the backpacks he'd stowed there. He tossed one to John. "First we scout a good camping spot. Something out in the open."

"Why out in the open?" Wally slid down the front windshield of the van, where he'd been sitting with Shayera on the roof.

"Easier to spot predators."

"Predators?" Diana said incredulously.

"Coyotes. Bobcats. Mountain lions. Wolves," Bruce said. Silently, he reviewed a list of all the plants he knew were indigenous to the area, which were poisonous, which were edible, which contained water.

Clark caught the next backpack Bruce threw from the back of the van. "Ranchers have been having problems for years. They're losing heads of cattle and sheep. Usually the scavengers are scared to go near human habitation, but with people not sealing up their trash properly at night, the animals are getting bolder."

"No one goes anywhere alone," Bruce slammed the van back hatch closed.

Why was Clark looking at him like that...so quietly _amused_? J'onn had very deliberately looked away, and, were he a different sort of being, would be whistling.

"Anyone could get lost," Bruce added, not liking how defensive he sounded. He never explained himself to anyone, but it was true, for a moment he had forgotten: this was not Gotham, and if a predator attacked, he was the most likely to be injured.

He hadn't told any of them, of course, about the smoke pellets he'd hidden in his shoes, or the super thin jumpline he'd taped to his calf, or the pen filled with knockout gas in his pants pocket.

Because like the rest, he'd promised.

 

* * *

5:01 pm  
_Shayera_

 

Unlike certain Amazon princesses, Shayera couldn't lightly tread the desert floor in mere sandals, particularly flimsy little sandals that laced elaborately up the calf. Shayera Hol was used to hard hiking, but still, it irked her that Diana seemed to stroll as easily as if it were downtown Metropolis. Also, why were they all sweaty while Diana looked so cool and unruffled?

In her sensible summer weight hiking boots, Shayera tripped on some loose scree. No one was perfect.

John's hand closed over her bare elbow, steadying her.

She yanked her arm out of his grasp.

"Sorry," he said. "Just trying to help."

"I can walk, thanks." She picked up her pace, moving ahead of John, her shadow stretching over the uneven ground. The land rolled flat to the horizon until it met distant mountains.

It had been like this ever since her return from Fate's tower. He'd been too kind, too solicitous. It was like a constant apology.

"Beautiful country out here," he said, keeping pace with her.

Shayera gritted her teeth. She wanted very badly to stop in her tracks, spin to face him and ask him what the R'lyeh he was doing. Instead she said, "Yes."

After that they hiked in silence, listening to the murmur of conversation from the others. In his human form J'onn looked too pale and tall.

The campsite was flat enough and far enough from any scrub to suit Bruce.

As Shayera let her backpack slide to the ground, the sky was turning the color of embers mixed with a deep blue, edging the clouds in a fiery clear light. Sunsets made her sad.

"I found the marshmallows," Wally announced, waving a package. "S'mores for dessert!"

Bruce dropped his backpack and immediately walked out into the desert.

"Hey, where are you going?" Wally called after him.

Like someone making a great concession, Bruce stopped and turned. "Firewood." Then he turned and kept walking.

Wally stepped over to J'onn. "I thought he said no one..."

J'onn nodded, then turned to Diana. "Keep an eye on him. The rest of us will also look for fuel for the fire. Take a flashlight," he added, sounding paternal.

* * *

5:30 pm  
_Diana_

They walked in silence towards a small cluster of scrub and scraggly trees. The mountains were darkening in the fading light. It was hard to tell what was mountain peak and what were clouds.

They reached the trees and Bruce began snapping off dry branches. Diana wandered among the scrub, searching, but her eyes kept going back to the mountains and the tantalizing swirls of clouds.

She didn't often feel whimsical about her abilities, but it seemed as if her whole body suddenly yearned to fly, to touch the top of the mountains. If they hadn't sworn not to use their powers, she would have done it, whatever her responsibilities to the group. The clouds promised things, claimed they were a gateway to the realm of the gods.

"My father took me to the mountains once."

His voice startled her—she'd forgotten she wasn't alone, and also the words themselves were unexpected. She turned. Bruce was standing a few feet away, a good pile of branches already stacked with ruthless precision near his feet. He, like her, was watching the changing light of the sky.

Diana held her breath, literally, for a few seconds, wondering if he'd keep on talking or suddenly remember who he was, where he was, who he was with, what they were doing.

"We had a family compound in Maine. It was sold after...it was sold," he said roughly. "One summer my father took me hiking, deep in the woods. But he was never really an outdoorsman and we got lost. It started getting dark. I wanted to keep up with him, not stumble, but I was getting so tired. Finally he picked me up and carried me."

Bruce reached out and absently touched the trunk of a spindly, lonely looking tree with spiky leaves and branches like reaching arms.

"We almost missed the trail, but my mother and Alfred were waiting at the entrance with flashlights."

Now that he'd given her so many words all at once, it seemed safe for her to speak. "Were you frightened?" she asked, then quickly closed her mouth, wondering why she would ask this man that question.

"No. Because I was with him. Even though he didn't know what he was doing. I had no doubt we'd be all right, that he'd get us home."

The faint flicker of a smile materialized. The collar of his white shirt was open and dust and sweat and oil stains were on his neck and arms and hands. Diana crossed the few steps between them.

When she touched his chin she expected him to freeze and pull away. When he didn't, she bent her head and touched her lips to his. At first it seemed as if he merely permitted her touch. Then his fingers traced up her back, into her hair. He began to do things with his lips and tongue that made her forget her name, her true nature, or whether it was sunset or sunrise.

He pulled away first. As if nothing extraordinary had taken place, he gathered up his firewood and started back towards camp.

Diana licked her lips. He'd kissed her before, while they were playing a part.

That had been nothing like this.

She decided that if she'd known men could kiss like _that_, she'd have tried it sooner, and more often.

 

* * *

7:59 pm  
_Clark_

They got the fire going, cooked dinner, put the paper plates carefully in a garbage bag to be disposed of later, and now there was nothing left to be done but open the graham crackers and marshmallows.

The campfire popped, red embers rising into the clear, cool night air, casting both glow and shadow over the faces gathered around. Clark studied each of them, familiar features altered by the firelight. Only J'onn's face was a stranger's, except Clark could still see the face J'onn usually wore in the lines of this disguise. Clark knew that neither was the Martian's true face.

No one spoke. Wally fidgeted, drawing idly in the dirt with a twig. John stared at his boots. Shayera examined a blister on her ankle. Diana tilted her head back to stare up at the stars, while Bruce stared into the fire but occasionally glanced at her sideways because he thought no one would notice. J'onn sat cross-legged and slightly apart, back straight, if he were preparing to meditate.

Companionable silence was welcome. It showed comfort among friends. This wasn't companionable, but tense and waiting.

Clark cleared his throat to say something to lighten the mood and make them smile.

Of all people, Bruce beat him to it.

"No one sings _Kumbaya_," he said ominously, in what Clark and many others thought of as Bruce's _scary pissed-off Batman voice_.

Startled glances all turned to Bruce.

There was a pause. Then Wally began singing, very loudly, "Jeremiah was a bullfrog/Was a good friend of mine—"

A hail of marshmallows and graham crackers drowned out Wally, who ducked and put his arms over his head. Now there was laughter as well as sounds of protest that dissolved into conversation.

Bruce glanced at Clark and raised a sharp eyebrow: _See? I do so have a sense of humor._

"Hey, guys, I brought a surprise with me." Clark reached into his backpack and pulled out something wrapped in foil. "Deep dish apple pie. Ma baked it just for the trip."

"Ooooh, pie," said Wally.

J'onn untangled his legs and moved closer to the fire. "Mrs. Kent makes wonderful pie," he said graciously. "Please give her my thanks when you next see her."

They ate pie, and then s'mores. Their fingers and face got sticky, no one sang, and Clark felt a deep contentment.

* * *

10:00 pm  
_John_

Shayera blew out the flaming marshmallow speared at the end of a stick and turned to John. "Pass me another graham cracker?"

Somehow he'd ended up sitting next to her—or she'd ended up sitting next to him. Perhaps it was the sugar shock. It left him confused.

He'd tried to do everything he could to show her that she could count on him as a friend, and rely on him even though they weren't dating. In response she'd acted like he had a communicable disease she'd catch if he touched her.

John handed her the crackers, using slow, careful movements, as if she might startle.

There was a sticky smear of chocolate mixed with melted marshmallow caught at the corner of her mouth. His fingers itched with the repressed impulse to reach out and smooth away the stickiness with his thumb.

"John, you've got...oh, here. It looks ridiculous." Before he could move, her fingers went to his beard, and tugged free a clump of melted marshmallow he hadn't realized was stuck here.

Her eyes were a muddied, reddish green in the firelight and shadows. His pulse beat frantically as if trying to escape through his throat, and he wanted to taste the sweetness stuck at the corner of her mouth with his tongue.

Mari's face flashed into his mind and he moved his head. Shayera coughed, withdrawing her hand. She went to work building herself another s'more.

His face warm, John glanced around the group to see if anyone was watching.

Across the fire, Wally was telling Clark and J'onn a story, gesturing broadly, his face animated. Bruce listened with great focus while Diana talked.

Shayera got up and walked around the fire, dropping herself down next to Wally.

The fire died into embers, the night grew cold. They all went to sleep under their thermal blankets around midnight, the stars cold bright pinpoints overhead, the mountains a distant looming shadow.

* * *

6:30 am  
_J'onn_

He had never required much sleep, but in his role on this trip as a human, he'd lain down under his blanket and eventually did drop off.

Sunrise woke him. He sat up under his blanket while the others slept, and watched color slowly seep back into the desert. The desert landscape, although not really that similar, reminded him of home.

Under his own blanket a few yards away, Bruce was muttering in his sleep, caught in unpleasant dreams. J'onn frowned, knowing that to touch his mind to find out what disturbed him, and soothe, was out of the question.

Wally slept face down, arms outflung, only a tuft of red hair showing. He looked like a child.

Diana slept on her back, blanket neatly spread over her, her features smooth and serene.

Clark looked as restful as if he were in his bed at home. He also slept on his back. His glasses were stowed neatly in their case by his shoulder. Asleep and without his glasses, Clark didn't look like Superman, but Clark.

Her wings making a strange hump in the blanket, Shayera slept on her side, her head pillowed on a sweatshirt. The tightly coiled braid was working loose, the tendrils of red hair curling along her cheek. One of her arms was stretched out, her fingers gently curved.

John slept on his side facing Shayera. His arm was also stretched out, towards her hand. There was yards of space between them and J'onn was sure their postures were the result of their bodies' unconscious movements in sleep.

They were like his children. He realized viewing them in this way also helped to keep him apart from them. A parent did not participate in the way that siblings did. Yet he felt he belonged with them—he felt safe.

Bruce woke up first. There was no slow stirring, he just opened his eyes and sat up. He immediately kicked off his blanket, rolled over, and began doing one-handed push-ups.

"Good morning," said J'onn.

"Mmm," Bruce said, changing over to crunches.

The others were waking up too. Wally stumbled around looking for his water bottle so he could brush his teeth, his hair stuck up in half a dozen cowlicks. John splashed some water on his bleary-looking face and like Bruce, began doing crunches.

Shayera rolled her shoulders and windmilled her arms while Diana bent at the waist to touch her toes, her chest meeting her knees. She straightened up and gracefully lifted her arms to stretch her torso, then noticed Shayera. The women gave each other a long, measured glance like a pair of territorial cats, then went back to their morning stretches.

Only Clark appeared to be cheerful. "Morning, everyone." He smiled, the sunlight illuminating his face.

Wally was cranky and too quiet until he made pancakes. Once he'd eaten about ten or so, it was like he was released from a magic spell and acted more like himself again, teasing the others, showing off by flipping the pancakes into the air and catching them perfectly in the skillet.

Around noon a pickup truck finally stopped for them. The farmer driving the vehicle let them climb into the back. J'onn rode with the man up front.

"So, what are you folks doing out here?"

"Corporate retreat," J'onn said, the response carefully rehearsed.

"Really? What line of work," the man said curiously.

"Security," he said.

"Must be interesting. Is it dangerous?"

"Sometimes."

"Why do you do it?"

A hundred replies flitted through J'onn's mind. None of them were appropriate to share with a complete stranger. Except one.

A warm wind blew in through the open passenger-side window. J'onn turned his face into it, feeling the heat of the sun.

"I like the people I work with."

END

*"Joy to the World" is copyright by Three Dog Night


End file.
